


World's Finest

by Misha Berry (MishaDerps)



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Batfamily Feels, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, Family Fluff, Gen, Jason is a Dork
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-27 16:46:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17165603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MishaDerps/pseuds/Misha%20Berry
Summary: Jason hadn’t been at the manor for very long, but Christmas was around the corner and his weekly allowance was more than his father had ever made in a month. So Jason was out buying gifts for Alfred and Bruce (and even Dick, even though he was still an asshole), to show his appreciation. He’d already bought everything he wanted to, but he’d seen it in the window of a little home goods store in the malls and had immediately knew he needed to get it for Bruce.





	World's Finest

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! So I had the idea for this a while back, but I totally forgot about it until yesterday. I rushed through writing it because I spent most of my actual Christmas on an airplane flying home. So this is probably a little short and not too polished, but here it is anyway.

It had originally been intended to be a gag gift.

Jason hadn’t been at the manor for very long, but Christmas was around the corner and his weekly allowance was more than his father had ever made in a month. So Jason was out buying gifts for Alfred and Bruce (and even Dick, even though he was still an asshole), to show his appreciation. He’d already bought everything he wanted to, but he’d seen it in the window of a little home goods store in the malls and had immediately knew he needed to get it for Bruce.

It had been cheap, not even five dollars (still bordering on expensive to Jason), and it wasn't half as nice as the other, ‘real’ present he’d gotten Bruce, but he’d wrapped it (terribly), stuck a bow on it (lopsidedly), and shoved it under the tree with the rest.

Jason had practically forgotten about it until the big day had come. Dick hadn’t shown up, deciding to stay at Titans Tower instead (he’d called though, easing the tension a little), so there was still a pile of presents under the tree for Dick, nearly swallowing Jason’s little present up. It wasn't until Alfred had started sorting everything that he’d pulled it out.

“We appear to have missed one,” he said, smiling at the tag and handing it off to Bruce. “For you sir.”

“Another one?” Bruce asked, taking the crinkly package. “I thought I already got yours?” he asked Jason.

“So? I got you two, no big deal,” Jason shrugged, trying to play it casual. He tried not to make it too obvious how closely he was watching Bruce unwrap the gift.

When Bruce finally revealed the little trinket, Jason prepared himself to start laughing and ribbing Bruce. He couldn't hide his grin as the last of the paper fell away. Just as Jason was about to start hounding Bruce, he glanced at his face and stopped. Bruce’s expression as he stared down at the mug with the words  _ World’s Best Dad _ printed on it was soft, almost amazed. He cradled the cheap ceramic in his hands like it was fine china, tracing the vinyl lettering with his thumb.

“This is for me?” Bruce asked, voice soft and fond.

Jason felt his chest tighten a little. He’d meant it as a prank mostly, something silly to poke fun at them both. Bruce had adopted him, but Jason’s father was Willis, a deadbeat drunk with a prison record as long as his arm. Jason had sort of meant it in more of a ‘of all the dads he’d had, you’re the best’, but Bruce seemed so genuinely touched that Jason couldn't bring himself to shatter the dream.

“Well, you're name was on it, wasn't it old man?” Jason said, feeling his face flush.

Bruce set the mug aside and stood, crossing to where Jason was sitting on the other side of the couch. He smiled fondly down at Jason and leaned down to press a gentle kiss to his forehead, one large hand running gently through his hair.

“Thank you Jason,” he said softly, “I like it very much.”

Jason’s felt his chest fill with warmth. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Alfred smiling proudly at the both of them. Bruce gave his hair one last ruffle as he stood.

“Come on,” he said, “As I understand, there’s enough food to feed an army.” Bruce quirked a brow. “Or at least, one growing boy.”

Jason grinned and leapt up from the couch. “Sounds like a good time,” he said.

Bruce smiled and wrapped his arm around Jason’s shoulders, squeezing him tightly to his side. They made their way to the dining room where Alfred had laid out the dinner for the two of them (three, but Dick hadn’t shown), that he and Jason had cooked together.

The mug became one of Bruce’s favourites, and he used it all the time. The ceramic was cheap and heated too easily, burning anyone that grabbed it too tightly. The handle was a little on the thin side and threatened to snap off if you so much as nudged it wrong. As it was, it chipped at the slightest provocation, and before the year was over the handle had to be glued back on twice and it had two chips in the rim and three at the base. Bruce loved it though, and used it as often as it was clean. Embarrassingly (for Jason), he often took it to work with him in order to show it off to anyone who looked twice.

It had meant to be a gag gift, but in retrospect, Jason could see that it was the perfect gift for Bruce, because he  _ was _ the best dad Jason had ever known. The mug was cheap and cracked, a bit like Jason, but it showed his love for the only man he’d ever truly looked up to. Whenever Jason saw Bruce using the mug, he couldn't help but feel a rush of pride swelling in his chest.

And then Jason had died.

* * *

“Yield, traitor!”

“Not on your life!”

Damian gave a warrior’s cry and leapt after Jason, who bolted away, cackling and trying not to drop any of the cookies from the plate he’d pilfered. He knew they were for everyone, but he’d picked up the plate out of conveniences sake. Damian had thought that Jason was trying to take the entire plate for himself and demanded that Jason hand it over. Annoyed by Damian’s attitude (and a little bored), Jason had refused, sparking a chase across the manor.

“Share you cretin!” Damian shouted, trying to catch Jason by the shirt.

Jason answered by shoving another cookie in his mouth, earning him a screech of fury. Jason made a hard left into the kitchen to avoid Damian trying to kick his knee out from under him. Dick watched them barrel in with caution, but Bruce hardly looked up from his paper.

“Can you two not do that in here?” Dick asked, though he seemed resigned to the two of them making a mess.

Neither Jason or Damian paid any attention to Dick. They chased each other around the kitchen for a bit, Damian periodically lunging for Jason and Jason deftly evading him. After nearly five minutes, Damian finally managed to slam his narrow, sharp shoulder into Jason’s gut, forcing him back. Jason knocked into Bruce, his elbow flying back to stabilize himself.

The sound of shattering glass brought the tussle to a standstill. Jason looked back to see that his elbow had knocked into Bruce’s coffee mug, sending it to the floor to shatter against the kitchen floor.

“Oops,” Jason said, shoving Damian off of him and shoving the plate into his hands. “Sorry, guess Damian got a little out of hand.”

“Hey!” Damian hissed.

Jason was about to turn on Damian again and start arguing with him again, but then he noticed Bruce’s expression. He was looking at the mess on the floor with what could only be described as anguish. He slowly got up and tried to gather the shards of glass. As Bruce tried to gather the larger pieces, one of the sharp edges bit into his finger, slicing it open. Blood welled up and splashed to the pieces below. Bruce pulled his hand away and stood with a sigh. He turned and left the kitchen, unhappiness in every line of his body.

“Great, you broke his favourite mug,” Dick said, every bit the disappointed older brother.

“I didn’t start it,” Jason said, “Blame the demon.”

Dick rolled his eyes. “Clean this up, would you? Damian, go get the broom.”

Damian huffed, but after shoving a few of the remaining cookies into his pockets, he went to go find the broom. Jason bent to try and gather the larger pieces of glass. It was then that Jason noticed the vinyl lettering on the cheap ceramic. It was the  _ World’s Best Dad _ mug that Jason had given Bruce for their first Christmas. Somehow it had survived all these years despite being a cheap piece of shit, and now it was scattered in a million pieces over the floor, unfixable.

Jason felt something like guilt slither around in his gut.  _ His favourite mug _ , Dick had called it. Jason hadn’t even known it was still kicking around, he was never back at the manor for very long at any one time. He’d assumed Bruce had either broken the damn thing years ago or it was collecting dust in the back of a cupboard somewhere like much of the rest of the things that had painfully reminded Bruce if Jason in the early years. Maybe it had, and had only recently emerged, now that Jason was back and on better terms with the family. Maybe Bruce had brought it out to try and show Jason that he still remembered, still cared enough to show him in little ways how much he meant to him.

And now Jason had broken it.

The swish and tinkle of glass being swept up brought Jason out of his own head. Damian looked at him accusingly. “Help me clean this up. This is your fault,” he said.

Jason frowned and said nothing. It certainly felt like his fault.

* * *

Jason tried not to let it bother him, but he couldn't help but think about it. After the first day, Bruce didn't seem to be that upset, but Jason couldn't help but notice the different mugs he used for his coffee. Had Bruce always drank so much coffee, or was he trying to make Jason feel guilty? Jason couldn't get the memory of Bruce’s anguished face out of his head, couldn't stop thinking about the blood dripping onto the sharp glass of Jason’s shattered present.

It was starting to drive Jason  _ crazy _ .

Jason was out, not Christmas shopping, just shopping. If he happened to pick up something he might consider giving away as a present, well that was no ones business but his. For the most part he was just getting stupid little things, trinkets and useless crap to take up space, though once in a while he’d get something that he knew they’d actually like.

He wasn’t really paying attention when he passed the kitchy little store tucked into the corner of the mall. He was actually planning on leaving, but something in the display in front of the store caught his eye. Jason paused and turned to get a better look; it was a mug, pink in colour, with fancy lettering across the side.  _ Don’t talk to me until I’ve had my coffee _ , it read. Jason looked into the store and he could see rows of mugs with similar text on them. Before he could really register that he was moving, Jason was already in the store.

The store had a hundred different kinds of novelty mugs, and it took Jason a moment to find the ones he was looking for. When he’d gotten the first mug, it had been only one of two options, the other option being one for Moms. Now Jason was faced with a wall of potential options,  _ World’s Best Dad  _ seemingly lost among them.

_ World’s #1 Dad, Best Dad Ever, Dad of the Year, Most Perfect Dad,  _ and all manner of cute little declarations stared out at Jason. It was starting to get a little frustrating, being unable to find one particular cute saying in a sea of cute sayings. Jason liked to do his shopping late, so he knew the store was closing soon; the two teenagers manning the store were starting to shoot him dirty looks.

After a few minutes of searching, Jason noticed a mug high on the shelf. He squinted at the text to read it.  _ Close enough _ , he thought to himself, bringing it down to get a closer look. Deciding that this was probably as good as he was going to get without painting the words on a blank mug himself, he took it to the counter to pay.

* * *

It was the first Christmas where Jason would be actually at the manor for the big day. Previous years had seen him either still trying to kill the others or just not in a good place to be around them for too long. This year, Jason had promised Alfred he’d at least stay for dinner, if only to pack away some of the leftovers. He’d come late, long after most of the gifts had already been opened, and spent most of the time in the kitchen with Alfred helping to prepare dinner. His pile of gifts sat half shoved into a closet in the mud room connected to the garage, and probably would have stayed there until the next day if Cass hadn’t noticed and brought the armful of bags to the sitting room where they were all talking while they digested their food.

“Whatcha got there Cass?” Duke asked, looking up from his new Nintendo Switch for the first time in an hour.

“Presents,” Cass said, grinning at Jason.

“I thought we got all the presents?” Tim asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Presents from Jason,” Cass clarified.

There was a short clamor as everyone berated Jason for not telling them and scrambled to get their gifts. Jason just rolled his eyes and pretended to be uninterested in the whole entire thing.

“Why are they wrapped in newspaper?” Damian asked.

“Because why would I spend money on shiny garbage when I get this stuff delivered to my door?” Jason said, “It’s called recycling, look it up.”

It didn't take long for Jason’s presents to be opened. For the most part it was all just junk, random things that made Jason laugh and think of one sibling or the other, but everyone seemed to enjoy everything they’d gotten. The one or two actual nice presents were taken with genuine thanks, and Jason would fall into another Lazarus pit before he admitted to the warm feeling it gave him.

“Okay, this is one last one for Bruce,” Dick said, pulling out the last present from the bag. He prepared to toss it to Bruce on the far end of the couch.

“Don’t chuck that!” Jason shouted, startling Dick. He reached over and plucked it out of Dick’s hands, handing it to Bruce. “This one is fragile, shit head.”

“No name calling please,” Bruce chastised, taking the gift. He gave Jason a nod in acknowledgement and started to unwrap, handling it gently.

When the newspaper fell away, Bruce lifted the mug up to inspect it.  _ World’s Finest Dad _ was written across the smooth surface of the moderate quality ceramic. It had cost nearly twenty bucks, but Jason knew he had to get it. Hopefully this one would survive a tumble to the floor.

“To replace the one I broke,” Jason explained, shrugging as though that was the end of it. “Y’know, whatever.”

Bruce turned the mug over gently in his hands, smiling softly. He stood up and leaned over to press a kiss to Jason’s forehead.

“Thank you, I love it very much,” he said, ruffling Jason’s hair.

Jason grumbled and tried to hide his flushed cheeks. Dick, having nearly vibrated through the floor throughout the whole exchange took that moment to pounce, wrapping the two of them in a hug. From there the whole family joined in and Jason ended up crushed under a pile of siblings on the couch, the behemoth that was Bruce directly on top of him. Jason could feel the soft, deep chuckles that were reverberating through Bruce’s chest, and he figured that it probably wasn’t all bad.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Holidays everyone


End file.
